


first love/late spring

by worthageatrois (palisadespalisades)



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romantic Comedy, abuse of ya tropes, overabundance of kpop references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palisadespalisades/pseuds/worthageatrois
Summary: "It was Andrew like Steven hadn’t seen him in years.To understand the Andrew situation entirely, one would have to travel years back — five years back, where Steven was being thrown, through these shaky cellphone-cam videos of them, doing stupid skits in Andrew’s backyard, sitting in the park and talking softly and laughing until they couldn’t breath.Back to when they were best friends. Back to when Steven couldn’t dream of finding anyone better. Back to when they thought it would be like that forever."in which: andrew and steven fight and don’t speak for three years, adam decides to push them into mending it all back together, jen is an absolute hero, andrew can’t stop repressing things and drinks too much black coffee, steven sets his mind and heart on climbing a mountain, and finds out he might be a little in love along the way.





	first love/late spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leiasreys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiasreys/gifts).



Steven was eating lunch alone.

This was unusual. He wasn’t popular, by any means, but he had his friends — a close, tight-knit circle of losers who generally didn’t have options to stop them from having their semi-mandatory lunchtime socialization hour. But, for the first time in years, he was eating lunch alone.

Sitting at a table in the chem lab, he ate his soup and worked on his homework in silence, the ambient noise from the hallways blocked out by the music blaring from his earbuds; even when he was alone, BLACKPINK had his back. Lisa would be there for him. He could count on her.

She was stolen from him, though, suddenly and cruelly — earbud ripped out, soft voice replacing it. He glanced up, and saw Adam.

“Steven.”

He scowled for a beat, before dropping the expression; he had a complete inability to stay mad at Adam. Steven couldn’t imagine anyone having any kind of grudge against that guy — he was too lovable. That was something Steven was sure of. He’d known Adam for a long time, and he’d never known anyone to be mad at him at all. They’d been friends for six years, if he did the math.

That was a long time.

“ _Steven_ ,” he said again, more impatiently. It was still his normal soft-spoken tone, but being friends for someone all through middle- and high school could make even a blockhead like Steven sensitive to the nuances in his voice. Especially for Adam — you had to listen carefully to hear anything at all.

“Yes?”

“Are you busy?”

“Well—” Steven considered it for a beat, glancing back down at his homework. It was chem, which was a breeze, but he had the class next period and Ms. Martinez would have his ass if he didn’t have it done, so—

“You’re not,” Adam interrupted him, having sat beside him while he was taking the time to think. He pulled a laptop out of his bag, and pushed it between them. “I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?” he asked, looking at Adam carefully. Steven was the impatient type, but he knew prodding Adam for more information wouldn’t do much good — he was, against all odds, impervious to Steven’s methods of annoyance. Exposure therapy, he supposed.

“Yeah. It’s a video I made. From some old footage of us.” He hit the spacebar, and soft music started filtering through the laptop speakers, tinny and acoustic. Steven didn’t recognize the song, but he couldn’t really think about it — his eyes were glued to the screen instead, watching intently.

It was him. In middle school, before he had found out about /r/streetwear and let Amber give him a makeover, and he had square wire-frames and bad hair and thought puka-shell necklaces were an acceptable — even _cool_ — fashion accessory. It was Adam, before puberty hit him like a truck and he grew a beard (stupid at first, but great for when he wanted to drink, since he was the only one of their group of friends that could buy beer without getting ID’d), looking shy behind his massive glasses and small in an oversized hoodie. And it was Andrew.

It was Andrew like Steven hadn’t seen him in years.

To understand the Andrew situation entirely, one would have to travel years back — five years back, where Steven was being thrown, through these shaky cellphone-cam videos of them, doing stupid skits in Andrew’s backyard, sitting in the park and talking softly and laughing until they couldn’t breath.

Back to when they were best friends. Back to when Steven couldn’t dream of finding anyone better. Back to when they thought it would be like that forever.

He sat in silence, watching the videos play out, watching them grow up. Watching 13-year-old Steven tearfully throw out his puka-shell necklace while Andrew stood by, solemnity broken by laughter. Watching Andrew come out of the dentist’s office when they were fourteen, headgear finally off, smiling widely with a comparatively-subtle set of braces. Watching the camera follow them into a movie theatre, throwing popcorn at each other, until the clip cut abruptly, hearing a panicked-looking Adam be lectured by an usher until all three got thrown out for trying to film the movie.

The clips stopped at Andrew’s fifteenth birthday. Him, smiling into a camera, behind a cake he had baked with his mother. Steven, off-camera, singing a loud, off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday, sounding ecstatic. Another shot, of Andrew opening presents. Steven handing his to Andrew, grinning in a way that was so excited but also nervous, like his whole life would be over if Andrew didn’t like the present. Andrew looked into the bag, and, even though the old footage, Steven could see tears brimming in his eyes. The video faded to a close as the two hugged — Steven, throwing himself at Andrew. Andrew, leaning into it, awkwardly at first, but melting into it as soon as they met, like it was instinct.

Steven stared at the laptop’s blank screen for several beats, mouth hanging open, before he turned to Adam. “Why — why’d you show me this — why did you make — what’s the deal here, dude?”

“I was going through some old memory cards,” Adam said, shrugging. Steven’s eyebrows knitted, giving him the hardest stare he was capable of in the moment. He felt a little too gutted and raw to really be capable of any actual sternness, but he knew there was more to it than Adam was offering. “And. Well. It’s our senior year.”

“Uh, yeah. I know.” Steven replied, feeling a bit stupid and even more lost.

“So. It’s your last chance.”

“Chance? To do what?” He had a creeping feeling he knew what the answer would be, spreading from the pit of his stomach up his throat, choking him.

“To fix things. To make things right. Before, you know. We grad.” Steven didn’t reply, and they sat in silence for another moment, neither quite able to look at each other. Adam cleared his throat softly, and looked up at Steven, his stare holding firm. “Your friendship… it was special. You know it was special. I don’t know what you did, but… if you leave things like that, you’ll regret it. Forever.”

“Yeah,” Steven breathed, feeling winded. He could hear BLACKPINK still crooning from his earbuds, discarded on the desk. The noises from the hallway, shoes squeaking and voices chattering, grew louder as the next class period creeped closer. Still, it felt like he was in another world entirely — removed from his body, still swept up in that video he was watching moments before.

“We have four months left, Steven.” Adam said again, packing his laptop up. The bell rang, and they both glanced up. “Fix this.”

Steven stared down at his homework, knowing there was no way he’d be able to finish it in time — as though he’d be able to focus on it at all. “Wait — wait, Adam.”

Adam turned back, silent and waiting.

“Can you send me the video?”

He softened, just slightly, and nodded before he left.

And Steven was alone again, with his homework and his lunch, cold and half-eaten.

* * *

Steven had skipped class three times in his entire life. Once was to see SHINee live. Once was because his goldfish died. And the third time, in the last semester of his senior year, was because he was having a minor, home video-fuelled breakdown.

He had driven to get a drink at the boba place, but once he’d ordered, he realized that there was a very good chance that someone from school would see him, and if he started crying in full public, at the very least he could be surrounded by strangers — so he got back in his car, and started driving. Bubblegum pop was blasting from his speakers in a desperate attempt to save his mood before he spiralled completely, but it wasn’t helping. It almost felt like they were making fun of him. Fuck you for being happy, TWICE. Fuck you entirely.

Somehow, he ended up at the park by his old middle school. School didn’t let out for another hour, so it was deserted — and while it was cruel that his subconscious led him there, he figured that it would at least be poetic if he drank his boba in absolute misery in the same patch of grass he had spent so much time sitting at in middle school.

He got out of his car, and started walking. After ten minutes of fumbling, he realized he didn’t know where the spot was — and it was stupid to think he’d realize it on sight. He hadn’t been there in three years, and spent as much time as he humanly could avoiding it. Things had changed. His markers were gone. He wasn’t good with directions — Steven always followed, always followed _Andrew_ , who knew right where he was going. Without him, he felt lost.

And, as he settled into the grass, he’d felt that way for a long time, in the back of his head.

He had spent three years trying to avoid thinking about Andrew, at any and all costs, but Adam was right. He had four months before he graduated, and after that, there was no guarantee he’d see Andrew until their ten-year reunion, if not longer — or at all.

But, despite how close the three of them used to be, Adam didn’t know what had happened between them. Nobody did, except for Steven and Andrew.

His phone started buzzing in his back pocket, and he pulled it out, dread piling on top of misery. If it was his parents, about to read him the riot act for skipping class, it would be the shit icing on the depression cake.

Instead, it was Jen — one of his friends that usually ate lunch with him, but had been gone for a dentist appointment. She had sent him a series of texts, with her usual sense of propriety and respect for privacy.

> **(1:52) Jen [cat emoji]:** Steven  
>  **(1:52) Jen **[cat emoji]** :** Adam texted me and told me to check in with you  
>  **(1:52) Jen **[cat emoji]** :** And I just wanted to say if you die can I have your car  
>  **(1:52) Jen **[cat emoji]** : **Also if you need to like talk or whatever I’m on a lot of painkillers but I’m home from the dentist if you wanna pick me up

Steven snorted, reading through the messages. Typing out a message, he picked himself up off the grass, and started back towards his car.

> **(1:52) Steven:** You’re the worst  
>  **(1:52) Steven:** The WORST  
>  **(1:53) Steven:** I’m on my way  
>  **(1:53) Steven:** Burgers?

* * *

Jen had this theory that all situations could be solved with In-N-Out, and Steven wouldn’t say she was right, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Eating a greasy burger and a pound of fries did make the issue in front of him seem a little smaller. It helped that he had Jen on his side — or across from him, rather, sipping a milkshake with the glee only achieved by someone on a _lot_ of painkillers. He had doubted her ability to eat a burger right after having a tooth pulled, but he was wrong for doing that; she had made more progress than him.

To Jen’s credit, in her eternal kindness, she had given them some time to eat before she dived into her interrogation about Steven’s abrupt emotional crisis. If she was kinder, she wouldn’t talk about it at all, but if he needed someone to dance around the issue of his freakout, he would’ve called Evan.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asked, sipping loudly.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Steven replied, glancing away. The tile walls were absolutely fascinating, really.

She took another long sip, and settled back in her chair, staring at Steven directly and plainly. “I have time, believe me.”

“Okay, I mean. I guess I should start at the beginning?”

“Sure.”

He blinked at her, before clearing his throat. “Alright, well. I guess… you know Andrew Ilnyckyj?” She nodded. “And you know how we used to be friends?” She nodded again, expression still blank. He couldn’t tell if it was because she’d expected this to be the issue, or if it was the pain meds, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. “Well, I guess you know that around the start of high school… we stopped being friends. We got into a huge fight, actually. And it was my fault, I was being a huge douchebag. It was over nothing, really. But I was talking to Adam, and this is like — my last chance to make up with him, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, not looking particularly moved or enthused. “Well, I’m glad someone’s knocked some sense into you. Everyone knows how hard you pined for that guy after your little break-up.”

“Huh? Really?” Steven asked, not able to hide his surprise.

“Yeah, man. You’re not exactly stone-cold. You were moping all over the place for, like, a year. It was super depressing. It was like seeing a puppy who got left at the old house when his owner moved.” She paused, for a moment. “I didn’t expect that you’d be the one to fuck things up, though.”

“Well, me neither, until it happened. Why, did you think that Andrew was the one who ended things?” he said, cursing himself for the wording.

“I mean, I don’t know. I figured he just up and ditched you, based on the way he moved on so quick, compared to you.” Jen shrugged, taking a bite of her burger. “I didn’t think about it too much.”

Steven sighed, and jammed a handful of fries into his mouth. Chewing, he looked up at Jen again. “I want to fix things. He was my _best friend_. And even if things aren’t, like, good, I want him to know I’m sorry about how things went down.”

“Sounds like you gotta apologize, then.”

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know _how_. We haven’t talked in 3 years. That’s a long time. I don’t know his phone number, so I can’t just text him. And if I go up to him at school, he could just deck me, you know?”

“He would do that?”

“Well, no. But I’m catastrophizing, which I’m allowed to do.”

“Alright. Sure. Well, I think you need to talk to him  — in person.”

“Yeah.”

“And I think you need to figure out what you want to say to him. Knowing you, we’ll sit you down in front of him and you’ll just ramble until your foot’s in your mouth and you’ve fucked things up worse.”

“I mean, that’s fair, I guess.”

“So I’ll help you. You figure out what you need to say to him, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Steven blanched for a moment; he had assumed this would be a major ordeal, an unsolvable problem. Of course Jen would swoop in, saving his stupid ass. “Okay. Okay, thank you — thank you so much, thank you!” He sprung up, though he wasn’t sure why — out of excitement, maybe — and dropped back into his seat, realizing he still had more food to eat, and they weren’t about to sprint out of the In-N-Out and fix everything in the next 20 minutes.

“You owe me, Lim.”

“Yes, I absolutely do. Thank you.”

“Just worry about what you’re gonna say this weekend, and try not to run yourself off the rails this weekend. We’ll figure the details out by Monday, alright?”

“Okay, sure, yes.”

* * *

The weekend proved to be a gruelling exercise in maintaining the kind of patience and self-control Steven never learned to have and resented needing at all. Still, he managed to mostly focus on doing what he needed to do, without fixating too hard on the Andrew problem. He did, in a moment of weakness and desperation at around 2 in the morning, make a post on Reddit, asking for advice, but nobody offered him anything he didn’t already know. Tell the truth, say you’re sorry, don’t expect too much in return. If anything, it was good for him to work out exactly what he wanted to say — to articulate his feelings in writing, instead of letting them bounce around his head aimlessly and incoherently.

Monday morning came, and he drove to pick Jen up, with their coffee orders in the passenger seat — a blended sugar-ice-coffee abomination for him, and a regular iced coffee for her. It was almost their usual morning routine, but Steven was thrumming in his seat, music cranked to eleven when she climbed in the car.

She took her drink and put his in the cupholder, taking a long sip before she spoke. “Haru Haru, really? Come on. You’re not that sad. Not enough to warrant this.”

Steven blinked at her, turned to his phone, and realized that he hadn’t remembered to shut off his depression playlist before she got in — he really _was_ that sad. Sputtering, he switched the music to something more upbeat, and started driving. “Anyways. _Anyways_.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. You’ve got a date with Andrew, after school at Starbucks. At four. You should get there early and get him coffee.”

He blanched again. “Wow. Okay, uh, that was quick.”

Jen shrugged. “I work fast. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“I mean, yeah,” he said, still stumbling and a little shell-shocked. “I’m just. Wow. You’re incredible. How’d you manage that?”

She shrugged again, and took another long sip. “I know. I called in a few favours — I talked to Kelsey, who talked to Kristin, who talked to Quinta, who talked to Freddy, who talked to Ashly. Which was a long chain of communication, and required a _lot_ of strings pulled. You owe me big-time, Lim.”

The rest of the day dragged on, each minute feeling more like 500 seconds than sixty. Steven couldn’t bear to focus on his classes; his teachers’ lectures passed through one ear and out the other, feeling more like Charlie Brown-style trombone warbling than anything else. Lunch (and k-pop club) came and went, and Steven couldn’t remember a single thing that happened — he was otherwise occupied, foot hammering into the ground like a jackhammer each time he sat. Even Evan noticed he was off, when Steven got up and took a “bathroom break” (or a meandering walk through the halls, distracted and mumbling to himself) fourteen times in a two-hour class. He had thought the anticipation he’d dealt with that weekend was bad, but making it through the day was both excruciating and _exhausting_. So much mental energy had been spent waiting and thinking and worrying and waiting that his mind was completely clouded by the time class got out.

He couldn’t remember driving to Starbucks, or ordering the drinks — it was all on instinct, autopilot. When he sat down at a table, he glanced at his hands and realized he’d ordered the same drinks they’d drank back in middle school, when they’d spent countless hours at this same location, doing homework or watching videos or just shooting the shit. A green tea frapp for him, a cold brew (black, unsweetened) for Andrew. It was reminiscent and unsettling all at once.

And then, he waited.

He waited for half an hour. He drank his whole frappucino, and when he was finished, he ordered another one. When the ice in Andrew’s drink melted, he tossed it and got another. The baristas looked on with pity when he ordered the second time, but he barely noticed — his eyes were locked on the door, waiting for Andrew to walk in.

When he did, even after all that waiting, Steven wasn’t prepared.

Andrew was different. Which, of course he’d be; three years had passed, three _major_ years, and they were both strangers from who they used to be. But Steven hadn’t expected how different he’d be — and he was different indeed. His hair was styled, brushed back with some kind of gel or pomade, Steven wasn’t sure. But it looked… nice. And Andrew looked nice, the whole of him. He was taller, and he looked stronger — like he’d been working out or something, a far cry from the chubby twelve-year-old Steven had once known. He was dressed well, though blandly, the generic kind of stylish all white teenage boys seemed to understand instinctively. And, what struck Steven the most, was how tired Andrew seemed. The bags under his eyes were bigger than they’d ever been when they were still friends, even after pulling all nighters instant-messaging. Every part of him looked tired, really, not just his eyebags — his eyes themselves looked dull, and his lips pulled down, even when he was wearing a neutral expression. He looked like he was carrying a lot, and Steven felt a wash of shame roll over him — he should’ve been there to help Andrew carry whatever burden he was holding, and instead, he became part of it.

He waved Andrew down, big movements and an uneasy smile pasted on, nodding down to the drinks in front of him. His heart thundered with each step Andrew took towards him. Realistically, he knew that if it went poorly, this whole meeting, nothing would change. Sure, he would be disappointed, but it wasn’t as though Andrew was a major presence in his life in the past few years, other than the ghost of their friendship — and he would continue on, keep living without him as he’d spent so long learning to. Even so, it felt like the weight of the world was resting on the words that they’d exchange.

“Sorry I’m late,” Andrew said, in a voice so deep it made Steven blink. “Got caught up after school. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” he responded, his own voice thick and rough. It felt as though he hadn’t spoken in a month, and had to re-learn how to make sounds in an order that made sense. “I — uh, I got coffee. Well, I didn’t get coffee. I still don’t like coffee. But I got you coffee — do you still drink cold brew? Black? That’s what I got, but I can grab you something else if this isn’t good.”

Andrew blinked at him, sitting in the seat opposite, and took hold of the drink. “No, that’s still my order. You remembered.” He sipped it slowly, like it could be poisoned or some kind of horrible drink, looking a little bewildered.

“Of course I did,” Steven said, before he could stop himself. “I, uh. You’re probably wondering why — I’m doing this, I guess. It’s been a long time.”

Andrew nodded, and Steven took it as a cue to continue.

“Um. I — ah, I wanted to apologize, I guess. For being such a massive douchebag to you, way back when. I feel like… I need to explain, I guess. Since you never got an explanation.” Andrew didn’t speak, or nod — or respond at all, and Steven started rambling, because he didn’t know what to do otherwise. “I guess what happened was… that things were changing. Or, I thought things were changing, in a way that I didn’t want them to, and I was really scared of that. I thought you were going to ditch me, because of my own… you know, paranoias or insecurities or whatever, so I freaked out. I figured if I cut you off first, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. Or that I’d get to control _when_ it hurt, you know? But that was super dumb, because it ended up hurting both of us. At least, I think it did. It really hurt me. I was absolutely broken up, which was, uh, probably pretty obvious. And I still miss you, you know? I miss you a lot.” He took a deep breath, staring into his frapp. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Andrew as he spoke, feelings of shame that he’d long-suppressed bubbling to the surface.

“And I think about you a lot. I see memes and I want to send them to you, or a new movie comes out and I want to watch it with you, or I go to a new restaurant or whatever and think, hey, Andrew would love this, I gotta tell him about it, and I can’t, and that really has me fucked up. And, uh, Adam showed me this video he made — this video, with all this old footage from when we were still friends. And it made me realize that I couldn’t let what we had — that friendship — go. So easily, at least. And I couldn’t graduate and leave for college without trying, you know? Or, at least, apologizing. I want you to know how sorry I am, like — really, _truly_ sorry. I don’t know how to make it sound genuine, and I don’t want you to think I’m doing this to clear my own conscience, because that’s not the point. I… I just, I cared about you a lot, Andrew, and I still do, and I don’t want you to walk away forever without knowing how much you mean to me, and how sorry I am, and I know you’re under _no_ obligation to give me another chance at being your friend, because I fucked up _bad_ , but—”

Andrew put his hand up, motioning for Steven to stop. Steven glanced up at Andrew, a little stunned. “Hey. Shut up.” For a heart-pounding moment, Steven was certain Andrew would throw his coffee in his face and walk out without another word, leaving Steven sitting there, alone, pathetic and drenched. But then he spoke again, slow and measured and careful, in the voice Steven had missed so much. “You really hurt me, man. Seriously. I didn’t — I have a hard time, uh, expressing how I feel. I’m not like you, I’m not an open book. But it really messed me up. For a long time. And the worst part was that I didn’t know what happened — I didn’t know if it was my fault. But,” he said, pausing to take another sip, leaving Steven in anticipation. “But, I missed you too. A lot. And, if you promise not to be a massive dick, we can give it another go.”

Steven leapt up, fist-pumping and knocking the table — spilling his drink, Andrew barely saving his own. “Oh, shoot, _shoot_ —” he said, manic as he grabbed his tipped-over cup. “Shoot. Sorry.” He dropped back into his seat, realizing people were staring. “Sorry.”

Andrew chuckled, and Steven revelled in the sound. “God, I hate you. Okay, I gotta run, I’m seriously busy right now — but, uh, give me your phone, okay?”

Nodding, Steven slipped his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Andrew. Andrew opened it, typing in the password — correctly, to Steven’s surprise. He hadn’t changed the codes for any of his devices in years, but it was amazing how easily Andrew remembered. (It took him a moment to realize that he used Andrew’s birthday, even still, without thinking about it.) Typing for a moment, Andrew handed him his phone back, and stood, stretching. “Alright. That’s my number. Text me if, uh, you’ve got any good memes or whatever. And I’ll talk to you later. Soon, okay?” Steven nodded again dumbly as Andrew grabbed his bag and started to leave. “And thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome!” he yelled at Andrew as he walked out the door, still sitting at the table. The frapp started to drip onto his pants. “Shit. Oh, shoot. God, alright. Alright.” He stood, grabbing some napkins and drying his pants, wiping down the table.

When he got in his car, he started flipping through his music, looking for something that matched his mood. Before he could pick, his phone dinged.

> **(4:54) Adam [hamster emoji]:** how’d it go?

> **(4:54) Steven:** Good, I think!! Mission ACCOMPLISHED

> **(4:54) Adam **[hamster emoji]** : **man, your mission impossible’s just starting  
>  **(4:54) Adam **[hamster emoji]** :** like the optimism, but you’ve got a mountain to climb  
>  **(4:54) Adam **[hamster emoji]** : **but gratz dude

> **(4:54) Steven:** Hahahahahaha yeah … Thanks anyways tho

He put his phone down, before remembering what he was doing. With a deep breath, he started a new playlist, and added a few songs to it before hitting play on SEVENTEEN’s _Adore U_. With a grin, he looked down at his phone, before he pulled out of the parking lot. [STEVEN LIM’S MISSION IMPOSSIBLE](https://open.spotify.com/user/allquiets/playlist/5PemsJsuVoiPdgzFZDYYM7?si=rs5xw2P8SPmi2_f8RVtN5A). He had a mountain to climb, sure, but he’d climb it.

He had to.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! thanks for reading. let me know what you think in the comments, or catch me on tumblr @ andrewilnyckyjhateblog and send me an ask!
> 
> the next chapter shooooould be coming in the next week, but i'm moving so i'll be pretty busy, so we'll see! comments, messages and questions are massive motivators if you do want more, though.
> 
> a general playlist and an andrew-specific playlist is on its way. this is a pretty massive and longer-term undertaking, so bear with me timing-wise.


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